Under the Oak
by EragonandMurtagh
Summary: Eragon lost Saphira in the battle against Galbatorix and now Arya must pick up the pieces. I wrote this before Inheritance came out but edited it to fit with the changes made by the book.(please tell me if you think I should bump up the rating as this is my first fic and I am a little unsure.)


Arya sat on the hill outside of urubaen, her dragon beside her, as she watched the sun set, giving way to the darkness. She felt the green grass beneath her hands, and heard the birds chirp in the air as she sat beneath the oak tree that grew on the gentle mound. The light began to fade and as the colors of twilight began to take hold Arya surveyed the remains of the traitor kings stronghold.

Urubaen looked much the same as it had before when Galbitorix had reigned but, the darkness had fled. The streets now rang with the laughter of children as they ran through the streets and the faces of the citizens were no longer gaunt and fearful but joyful and happy to have been released from the anger of a petty tyrant. But not everyone was joyful with the death of the tyrant three years ago.

"Eragon," Arya asked quietly "do you want some bread?"

Eragon stared into the distance; his eyes filled with pain, longing and the terrible look of a lost child. Arya called his name again, hoping against all hope that he would react but she knew it was hopeless, Eragon hadn't spoken in three years. Not since the death of Saphira.

Eragon had been fighting Galbitorix when shruikan had dealt an underhanded blow and fatally wounded her. It was only after Galbitorix had killed himself that they were able to rush to Saphira's side but it was already too late; Saphira had died in her riders arms. The grief on Eragon's face had been soul wrenching, but Arya hadn't understood why Eragon had retreated into himself. She had been angry at Eragon and had cursed him for his weakness as he sat under the oak tree, staring into the distance as though looking for something.

It had started to become a ritual, everyday Arya came back to the lonely tree and cursed Eragon for his weakness. The thought that he would just give up and abandon the world instead of fighting his grief, instead of helping the varden was appalling. One day she had been so mad that she had hit Eragon; one hit became another until she was beating him up, tears pouring down her face and still Eragon didn't react, he had just sat there, staring out over the horizon as Arya took out her anger on him. Feeling ashamed with herself, she had healed him and returned to urubaen.

Arya didn't come back to see Eragon for a week but eventually she gave into the craving to be in his presence. She sat down by him and looked out over the plains wondering what amount of grief made a strong man curl up and die on the inside. She draped an arm around his shoulders, trying to offer a modicum of comfort but, as she leaned over to Eragon she felt the boniness of his shoulders and began feeling his arms. As she looked at Eragon she realised with horror that he was starving himself, thought weather it was intentional or not she didn't know.

Gently she touched his mind, wanting to know why he was neglecting himself. As her consciousness brushed against his she was surprised to find no barriers around his mind, and as soon as she linked her mind with his a flood of emotions cascaded over their link. Pain, such pain. It was consuming the whole world and Arya found herself gasping for breath, trying to overcome the sorrow and grief, to shove it aside but it was captivating her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move, all she was aware of was the pain. As Arya struggled to surface from the storm of emotions another wave came and plunger her back down into the depths.

She didn't know if it took minutes or days but she eventually managed to wrench herself from eragons mind. She looked down at the rider and found herself moved with pity at the pain Eragon felt, with such pain she was surprised Eragon hadn't given up and died. Only then had Arya realised how strong Eragon had been to not give up on life completely and join his beloved dragon in the void.

The next day Arya started a new ritual. She would come up to Eragon with food and water and sit with him as he ate slowly and automatically, Arya doubted he even knew what he was doing. She would tell him of their adventures, the people he had forgotten, and the dreams he had once had. Eventually she had started telling him about herself, of her dreams, her hopes, and her adventures with the varden.

Slowly Arya started to see a change in Eragon, he filled out, his eyes sometimes looked just a little merry, and he would sometimes react to her presence in small ways, a small smile on his lips, a peacefulness on his face, that gave Arya hope that one day he would recover.

The years passed by with little acknowledgment from either Eragon or Arya. Dragon roamed the skies, sometimes coming to pay their respects to Eragon for setting them free. Glaeder had shown a select group of trustworthy elves the collection of eggs in vroenguard and slowly alagaesia had been repopulated by the glittering creatures. Alagaesia prospered with a splendor surpassing even the golden age of the old order of dragon riders, and tales were spun and songs sung about the love of the immortal elf for the grief stricken dragon rider. Arya took care of Eragon, made sure he had food to eat, new clothes to wear when his became ragged from the elements, and a friend to be around.

Whenever she had to leave for her duties as queen she always made sure that someone was around to keep him company and his cousin, Roran, always took up the job with fervour. After fifty years of ruling Du Weldenvarden from afar Arya abdicated her throne to the next in line, letting her take care of the broken dragon rider. She and firnen occasionally took Eragon flying as it seemed it was the only time he was truly happy.

Eventually the friends Arya had made in the varden began to die, leaving just Eragon, firnen, and herself alone to keep each other in touch with reality. After a century and a half had passed since his departure, Murtagh returned and wept bitter tears when he saw his brother, in heart if not in blood. Murtagh stayed with Arya for two decades, helping to look after Eragon before he left to seek out new lands for the dragon riders, once again living, to inhabit. The centuries started to fall away and still she sat on that hill with Eragon, slowly healing him with her love as they watched the sun set together.

"I love you Eragon, never forget that."

"I know."

Arya jerked her head from its place on his lap and stared in amazement as a single crystalline tear traced its way down his cheek. His face was set with the deep sorrow and pain he had born for three hundred years but emotion swirled in his eyes, more than had lit his eyes since his other half had been torn from him.

She knelt in front of him and lovingly cradled his face in her hands as she called to him, hoping to elicit a reaction from him. She held that position as the sun sank below the horizon and the moon rose to greet the night. "Eragon, Eragon" she called as she tried to help her love out of his self-induced purgatory.

And she succeeded.

Every time she uttered his name eragons eyes shone a little brighter and Arya wept tears of joy as she realised that she was getting a small part of him back from the dark reaches of him mind.

"Ar- Arya?" she heard him ask softly.

"Yes Eragon, yes my love. It is Arya, I'm here with you and I will not leave you," gasped out Arya, desperate to get every bottled-up emotion out of her.

"She- she said that to. But she's go-gone," he finished, his voice but a whisper only she could hear, she had no doubt in her mind who "she" was.

"Yes Eragon, she's gone," she whispered as well. "But would she have wanted you to live like this? Shut away from the world you loved and closed in on yourself? No Eragon, she would have threatened to lick you if you had even considered it," she finished with a laugh.

Arya could see the inner turmoil reflected in his eyes, to shy away from the pain of his immense grief and barricade himself deep in his mind again or, re-enter the world he used to love as Saphira would have wished and face the pain. Arya sat in front of him for many hours as he decided, hoping that he would choose correctly.

"Yes, she's gone," Eragon murmured as more tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and joined the remnants of the last, "she left me alone." A wrenching sob left him and before she could react Eragon was hugging her as though she was a life line in a churning sea, as he sobbed his pain, confusion, and loneliness onto her shoulder.

"Why did she leave me? Why did she leave me? Why did she leave me?," he chanted like a mantra in between his wracking sobs.

"It was her time Eragon, but she didn't want to leave you. Remember Eragon, she fought it the whole way because she wanted to stay with you."

"Saphira, Saphira, my beautiful, beautiful dragon. I-I will live, for you. I will face the pain your passing caused me and I will live," he whispered softly into the wind. He looked at Arya and she saw that, while his eyes still held the pain of her passing, he had rejoined the land of the living. Gone was the dead look in his eyes, the hopelessness. She knew that while it would be a hard and painful road, Eragon would recover from the death of Saphira and walk again among the living.

Eragon stood up and faced the sunrise. Arya saw glittering tears slip down his face, and as the sun swept its warm rays over the land Arya knew with the whole of her heart that Eragon was once again whole.


End file.
